


Out of His Skin

by SDBookFan



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDBookFan/pseuds/SDBookFan
Summary: Anxiety could feel his skin tightening, twisting, as the buzzing thoughts filled him, threatening to split him open. He needed out, not just out of the room, but out of his skin, which was now far to small to hold him and all his fear.





	Out of His Skin

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This fic does contain a panic attack and a non-graphic description of self harm.

It was going to be one of those days.

Anxiety gritted his teeth, trying desperately not to give anything away. He just had to make it through the meeting without anyone noticing. He stood as still as possible trying to ease the agony that was beginning the course through him.

If he’d known this was going to be the result of showing up for the brainstorming session, he never would have come. But surprised, and slightly flattered, that Thomas was including him, he had.

They had been tossing around ideas, trying to figure out what the fans might be interested in, with Anxiety making sure to point out the flaws in each one. Logic had been the one to suggest doing another Q and A with the four of them, pointing out that the fans still had quite a few questions concerning them. He had then pulled up some of the comments on various social media accounts to prove this.

It wasn’t a bad idea, but Anxiety had quickly been distracted from the subject of making videos after seeing one of the comments. Despite the continued debate from the others, he could think of nothing else, hearing the comment in his mind, over and over again.

_Why are you so nice to Anxiety? Wouldn’t you better off if you got rid of him?_

The burst of fear that had gone through him in reading that had surprised Anxiety in its intensity. After all, it was hardly a new thought. Anxiety was well aware that Thomas would be better off if he were gone. But there was something about seeing it written out, the suggestion given so innocently.

So he had begun to panic, quietly, so as not to alert the others. How many other comments like that did Thomas get? Enough to start considering the idea? _Could_ he get rid of Anxiety? Would he try? What would happen if he succeeded? Or worse, what would happen if he failed, and Anxiety had to live with the knowledge that he was unwanted and better off gone for the rest of his life?

Anxiety could feel his skin tightening, twisting, as the buzzing thoughts filled him, threatening to split him open. He needed out, not just out of the room, but out of his skin, which was now far to small to hold him and all his fear.

 _A little longer,_ he told himself, biting his lip to contain the whimpers that threatened to emerge, _a little longer, and you can leave._

It was only five, maybe six, minutes more before the brainstorming session was concluded, and Anxiety could disappear back into his room, but every second felt like an eternity, as pain continued to course through him. He felt as though his blood had turned to fire, or as though red hot needles were attempting to force their way out of his skin. And every motion, every touch of fabric only increased the agony.

So immediately upon entering his room, Anxiety stripped off every bit of his clothing. It didn’t stop the pain, but it did provide some small relief, no longer feeling as though the fabric was attempting to burn through his skin.

But it wasn’t enough. It was still too tight, too hot, too painful. He needed it to stop. He needed out. He needed off, off, OFF!

Kept only on his feet only by the knowledge that the floor would feel just as agonizing against his skin as the cloth had, Anxiety swayed on the spot, tears beginning to slip down his face, as the whimpers he has suppressed before began to trickle out.

He remained hunched in on himself, his eyes clenched shut, his mouth open and gasping for air. And his hands, he realized distantly, his hands were clawing at his skin, nails scrabbling across the source of pain, attempting to remove it, scratching deeper and deeper.

And the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that he knew he deserved this. He knew that this torture was nothing more than a fitting punishment for one who had caused so much pain. But despite knowing that, he begged for it to end soon.

And he knew it would end eventually. He’d had such episodes before, when he was particularly stressed or scared. That didn’t make them any easier to bear though.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, hunched over and keening like some monstrous creature as he tried to tear himself apart. Alone in his torment, both mental and physical, he missed the creaking of the door, and the gasp and worried babble of words that followed it.

He did notice the hands that came to grasp his own, however, as the feeling of the hot flesh against his sent a bolt of white-hot agony through him, and a near scream came from his throat.

The hands loosened a bit at the sound, but then continued tugging at his own. There was also a low murmur of noise that followed. Struggling to focus his scattered, spiraling mind, Anxiety tried to understand the words. Soon he began to make sense of them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know it hurts, but you have to stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

He was? Anxiety shifted his focus from the words to himself, trying to push past the agony to see what Morality, and he could tell it was Morality now, was talking about. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at his arms, and, oh.

Blood. His arms were covered in blood.

 _I must have done that,_ he thought hazily, before another wave of pain caught him and pulled him deeper inside his own head, leaving him completely oblivious to the frantic words being exchanged over his head.

When the wave had passed, and Anxiety was slightly more cognizant, he realized that his location had changed. Somehow he had been transported to his bathroom, where hands were now pushing him into his shower. Eager to shift away from the pain each touch brought, he stumbled forward.

And then there was water.

It, unlike everything else, did not hurt, and Anxiety basked in in, letting his face turn upwards into it, knees nearly giving out in sheer relief. The water was cool, soothing the pain that had burned within him. And as his skin became more and more soaked, the tightness eased until he no longer felt the desperate need to escape from it.

Eventually, as the pain faded, exhaustion followed, and Anxiety began to sink to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold him. But instead of the unsteady fall he expected, a hand gripped his shoulder, lowering him slowly and carefully.

 _That’s right,_ he remembered, _Morality was there._

He glanced up, intending to croak out a thank you, but the words stuttered in his throat when he realized that it wasn’t just Morality, but all three of the other sides. Morality had been the one to lower him to the ground, but Logic stood beside him, his face almost as pale as Anxiety’s usually was, and behind him he could see Prince pacing furiously.

“When did you guys get here?” he finally asked, his voice sounding tight and scratchy.

At the sound of it though, Morality let out a shaky sigh of relief, muttering “Oh thank god.”

“Morality found you,” Logic replied, his voice sounding tight. “But you weren’t responding. We overheard his distress, as well as … yours, and when we went to find the source of it, we, well” Logic’s jaw clenched, and he turned to the side, seemingly unable to speak any further.

“We found you like this!” Prince spat, having stopped his pacing to face Anxiety, his eyes blazing. “What on earth possessed you? Why wouldn’t you stop?”

It took a minute to puzzle out, but eventually Anxiety’s exhausted brain realized that Prince must be referring to his scratching. He glanced down to see the extent of the damage, and winced. Yeah, that was pretty bad, even by his standards. He’d broken skin before during these episodes, but these scratches were deeper than normal.

“Well?” Prince demanded, indignantly. Oh, right, he was still waiting for a reply. But Anxiety didn’t really know how to answer.

“I just needed it to stop,” he finally whispered, letting his head slip back to lean again the shower wall.

“You needed what to stop?” Morality asked quietly, his eyes staring intently at Anxiety.

“The pain,” Anxiety murmured, “it felt like everything was burning, and my skin was too tight, and I just… needed it to stop.” After a moment of hesitation he added, “I didn’t realize what I was doing,” hoping the addition would reassure the others.

Judging from their expressions, it didn’t.

“What I’m more concerned about now,” Logic finally said, “Is determining why this happened.”

Anxiety just shrugged in response. “It just does sometimes, when I’m stressed or scared,” he muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

There was long pause. Then Prince exploded.

“Don’t worry about it!” he shouted, his face twisted in disbelief and anger. “You terrified us, Anxiety! When we came in, none of us knew what was happening. Logic thought you were having some kind of fit, I thought you might have been cursed, and none of us could get it to stop! We eventually dragged you into the shower, hoping that maybe that would snap you out of it, but we didn’t have any idea if that would work or not, or even what was really wrong, and you’re telling us not to worry!“

Anxiety flinched back from the tirade. He- he couldn’t deal with this. Much to his embarrassment, he could feel tears beginning to slip down his cheeks again. he just wanted everything to stop.

Morality, still watching him, noticed his tears, and was the one to call Prince off. “Not now,” he said firmly, “We’ll deal with this later. Anxiety?”

Anxiety stirred a little, forcing himself to meet Morality’s eyes. Unlike Prince, they weren’t angry, just shimmering with worry.

Speaking softly, Morality asked him “What do you need?

“I- sleep, please?” Anxiety croaked out, his voice cracking. He was just so tired.

Morality nodded. “Okay. We’ll get you into bed, as soon as we take care of those scratches. But, Anxiety,” And here his voice was firm and unyielding, “We will be talking about this later.”

Anxiety just nodded in response, letting his eyes close. He could feel Morality tend to his self inflicted wounds, but he was too tired to even flinch at the sting of the antiseptic. It didn’t take long before they were bandaged.

Then, slowly, and with much difficulty, as his weak and heavy limbs worked against him, he allowed the others to pull him from the tub, a bathrobe settling on his form.

With light and careful touches, they led him to his bed, which he fell upon gracelessly. He let himself sink into the mattresses, eager to rest. One of the others pulled up the sheet, letting it cover him. That was the last thing Anxiety was aware of, his mind too worn out to be kept from sleep any longer.

* * *

 

Patton gazed down at Anxiety’s sleeping form. He didn’t think he had ever been so scared in his life when he had walked in to see Anxiety scratching himself bloody, looking and sounding so pained. And his reaction when Patton had tried to make him stop…

“This has happened before,” Logic said wearily, standing beside him. “Possibly many times before.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Prince asks, his earlier anger having faded, now only sounding scared.

“I don’t know,” Patton told him, “But we’re going to help him.”

Glancing back at Anxiety, Patton desperately wanted to run a hand over his hair, but he remembered the way Anxiety had screamed when he’d touched him earlier, and he didn’t want to cause the other any more pain.

So he kept his hands to himself. When Anxiety woke up, maybe, when he knew he wasn’t going to hurt the other.

“We should let him sleep” he finally murmured. “I’ll check on him again in an hour.”

Although seeming reluctant to leave him, the others did eventually file out of the room. Patton was the last out. With one last glance towards the bed, he turned out the light.

“Sleep well, Anxiety.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr at ec-sanderssides


End file.
